Me from Citadel Station
by CortessaBlatt
Summary: The story of Chodo Habat, Moza, and the other Ithorians on Citadel Station. Oneshot.


**Me from Citadel Station**

_The story of Chodo Habat, Moza, and the other Ithorians on Citadel Station._

**Rated PG **– I'm going soft. :(

**Disclaimer: **Don't own the Ithorians. Just the idea that they're all-'male' even though guys lay eggs (in my opinion, don't hold me to it).

**Me from Citadel Station**

The day had been unkind to Chodo. The problems with Czerka and the system failures on the planet surface were enough to mortify any man, but to also see the entire nursery go up in flames… He felt as if he had been thrown over the top of a very tall building and then dragged across four worlds by a speeder. The children, the eggs, in the nursery were mostly unharmed. They had lost two or three eggs, though, and the loss was still being mourned. He could hear the keening cry of the parents, and the gentle assurances of other herdmates. Under normal circumstances he, too, would have found the time to condole them, but he was just too tired, too beaten, too exerted. His head felt swollen and his neck felt ready to snap beneath its weight.

Dismissing the wide-eyed assistant who had offered him water, he curled up on his couch in the bed chambers, listening to the comforting noise the straw coverings made. The other nest couches, where the others slept, were left abandoned, except for one, where Ithorian triplet hatchlings lay curled around each other and sleeping soundly. He felt a rush of gratitude that they were still alive. The fire had been very terrible, taking out the entire nursery and saving nothing. The Ithorian caremothers had rescued most of the children, but they were badly burned and now lay in the infirmary. The children that had died were too charred to do anything with, except to place in containers and honor.

It had been a sad day, indeed. But, Chodo thought, at least the children were safe.

The door swept open soundlessly and an Ithorian adolescent walked in, his heavy feet crunching on the soft straw floor. The bed chambers were decorated lushly with living plants and heavy straw so that it felt just like home, and having the plants guaranteed that the air would be breathable. He nodded at Chodo warmly, finding his bed and curling up in it. Chodo noticed that he was swollen with unborn eggs. The herd would have to rebuild the nursery soon – they could not afford this boy to have his children without a proper place to put them.

Chodo spoke softly, for fear of waking the triplets. "Excuse me."

The adolescent sat up and paused, moaning softly as a dizzy spell hit him. He had moved too quickly. He clutched his egg sacks for a moment, taking deep breaths, and finally righted himself. "Yes, Chodo?" he mumbled, sounding very tired.

"Do you mind me asking how far along you are?"

The boy looked surprised, gazing up at him and blinking. He considered for a moment before he answered. "My birthing time is a few weeks away. Three, four weeks, yes." He paused, studying Chodo. "Why?"

Chodo nodded at him in a friendly way. "We will need to rebuild the nursery, and I want to complete it before we have too many eggs brought into the world without proper shelter." He glanced at the triplets still sleeping. "And the hatchlings need more suitable places for rest."

"I see," the adolescent said. "Thank you, Chodo."

Chodo could see the weariness in the boy's eyes. "You may rest, now," Chodo offered. "You will need your rest or your eggs will drain the life force out of you."

"Thank you, Chodo," he said again, and lay back down, on his back so that he would not crush his eggs.

Chodo sighed to himself. How could they right the entire planet if they could not right their own building? But he was too tired to think about it now, he decided. Perhaps in the morning, when his heart felt less heavy and the grieving parents had stopped keening.

He curled up on the straw, hugging himself, and closed his eyes. And he did rest, for a short while, until he was woken again by the rest of the herd, who was coming in to rest. They all tended to retire around the same time, so the moment one had sat down five more came in. The loud crunching of their feet woke him and he lay there, staring blankly at their shifting forms as they searched for their beds. Many carried large straw pans that held the eggs that they had rescued. Tiny hatchlings, all pale and barely able to walk, clung to their heels, stumbling over straw. Moza stepped inside, ducking his head in respect to another man, and found Chodo.

"Forgive us for waking you, Chodo," he began, but Chodo waved a hand.

"It is not something to apologize for," he replied gently.

Moza nodded, glancing over his shoulder as the last of their herd shuffled in. He closed the door behind himself and went to sleep beside the triplets, who had begun crying. Their herd was very large, the largest concentration of Ithorians on all of Telos. Six hundred Ithorians counted, growing constantly. Most had found mates. That or they were very old or very young, or just disagreeable. Those who had mates also often had children. After everyone had been settled, most beds contained either two Ithorian lovers or a family with eggs or hatchlings.

Moza stood for a while, just watching Chodo, who stared back expressionlessly. Moza was a handsome Ithorian – his markings were pleasant gold and black in variation, tinged green, especially around his face and neck. His neck and fingers were long and graceful, his touch deft. He was trustworthy and knew how to handle things. Chodo liked him for that, respected him for that. But Moza was submissive and uneasy, quick to drop whatever he was doing should it go wrong. It would take much of Chodo's guidance to steer him in the right direction.

"You may come to bed," Chodo offered after a moment.

"I am not tired," Moza lied, scratching his head awkwardly.

Chodo said nothing, but it was obvious that Moza could feel that he had been caught.

Moza sighed. "Perhaps later, Chodo," he said. "I am tired, but I feel restless."

"You are mourning for the eggs lost," Chodo told him. "Only rest may heal these wounds."

"I do not feel that way," Moza said, though he was slowly approaching the bed. Chodo thought, sadly, that Moza was still young. Moza spared Chodo a sideways glance, fiddling with his own fingers. "I feel as if I should not rest while these children go without shelter."

"In the morning," Chodo told him, reaching out and pressing his palm to Moza's arm.

Moza nodded. "I would assume you know better," he said with a hint of humor in his tone, and curled up beside him.

Someone grumbled in their sleep. Someone else shifted with an audible crunch of straw. The faint hum of the station was a soothing sound. Chodo scooted over to allow Moza more room, feeling drowsiness rise up to try and engulf him again. He fought it for a moment, listening to the breathing of his herd and absently stroking Moza's neck, but the day's toll was just too great, and in no time he had gone under.

Again, he did not sleep long. In the early hours of morning, as the sun had just timidly poked above the horizon, the adolescent Chodo had spoken to earlier went into labor. The bed chambers stirred uncertainly for a moment, and finally everyone woke to his life-mate's panicked bellowing. The adolescent writhed on the floor now, clutching his sides and crying out for help. It was his first time, his life-mate tried to explain frantically. They didn't know what to do.

The others helped him up, though he protested and was clearly reeling. Small hatchlings watched with wide, awed eyes, as he warbled with pain. Moza was up and ordering a few people around to fetch water, blankets, egg pans… Chodo hurriedly scrambled to his feet, stumbling in his haste. He, too, began trying to get things in order, telling people to back away from the birthing adolescent, and they obeyed, though some of the younger hatchlings stayed to watch.

The pandemonium raged for several hours, but then it was done. Moza sat on the bed, his voice hoarse from shouting orders over the screams and talk. The adolescent lay on his bed, pale and tired, shaking a little, but unharmed. His life-mate looked fragile, wavering a little as he stood there, tears in his eyes. There had been five eggs, though one had been broken and one was slightly warped, proving that the hatchling inside was either dead or permanently crippled. It was unusual anyway for more than three eggs to be born intact – this one was lucky. The Ithorian nurses tended to the adolescent, cleaning him up and making him comfortable. Caremothers carried off the eggs to tend to them and properly honor the one that was broken.

There had been little blood, but the room still stank of it. Normally, the birth would have transpired in the nursery, but the nursery had been burnt down.

"I was early," the adolescent kept moaning over and over. "I was early, I was early… I was too early…"

"Your eggs are healthy," Chodo soothed. "You are well."

"It hurt too much," the new parent replied. "I pained too much." His eyes grew wide. "Am I going to die?"

Someone, a long-time parent, perhaps, laughed in the background.

Chodo shook his head, amused. "No, no, you will be well," he said warmly. "Your eggs will be well."

"I lost one," the adolescent panted, losing his face in his hands. "I lost one. I felt it break."

"That is alright," Chodo told him, resting a hand on the boy's arm. "You had five. That is a very big number, especially for someone as young and inexperienced as you. You are lucky that you managed to keep three."

The adolescent sobbed for a moment before he pulled himself together. "Three?" he repeated softly. "Three?"

"Yes," Chodo said.

The adolescent seemed to be relieved. He sat back, closing his eyes, and his life-mate sat beside him, gently stroking his head. "You did well," his life-mate told him. "You did very well."

"The broken one is being mourned," Chodo said. "When you are well you may mourn also. But now you must rest. You will have your eggs tomorrow."

The adolescent nodded sleepily, leaning against his life-mate, and soon he fell asleep. Chodo was glad that he hadn't needed to be sedated – rest was important, especially after birth. After everyone had settled down, the new parent was left to rest. His life-mate paced for a while before retiring, but, Chodo felt, they were both very satisfied.

Moza looked up at him and called him over. "Do you think they will be alright?" he asked in a hushed voice, watching the two curl around each other and sleep. "We have no place to put his eggs. In the tender days after birth he cannot be exerted, and to lay on these beds all day may be unhealthy."

Chodo glanced over his shoulder thoughtfully, sitting beside Moza. "He is young," he said. "I think he will be well."

Moza shifted uneasily. "But _I _am not young."

Chodo started, staring at his companion, his business partner, his life-mate. It took him a moment, and then he couldn't speak. He tried, worked for it, but he couldn't utter a word. After several minutes, he managed to say, "Moza. Don't talk like that."

Moza bowed his head. "Forgive me, Chodo," he mumbled.

"You are not, are you?" Chodo asked, firmly.

"No, I am not," Moza replied. He looked up. "Are you?"

Chodo almost laughed at the ludicrousness of it. "Moza, I may feel through the Force. I would be aware of life inside myself. Besides." He paused, looking Moza in the eye. "I am far too old now."

Moza sighed unhappily, and said nothing more.

Chodo froze then, sitting upright, utterly still. Moza lay back down on the bed, shifting a little, and watched him wordlessly. Chodo felt chilled; something was wrong. Horribly wrong. He couldn't explain it, but something inside of him told him that something was not as it should be. Something important was underway but amiss. He stood up and closed his eyes, reaching out in the Force.

What he saw shocked him. He couldn't quite understand it, and it confused him and worried him. He had never seen anything like it before… a hole, a hole where the Force should be, where even metal would have the faintest tangible throb. But this was nothing – this was emptiness.

A wound.

"Chodo?"

The voice was faint. Chodo found himself drawn towards that wound, desperate to find out what it was, but afraid to touch it. A hand grasped his wrist, jarring him.

Moza said his name again, more loudly. "Chodo."

Chodo gasped, shaking himself. He whirled around, facing Moza, who appeared to be very surprised by his companion's reaction.

"Chodo," he repeated, softly now. "What's wrong?"

"I felt something," Chodo replied. He paused, pacing in a small circle. He looked around the room, at the eggs scattered over the floor, the hatchlings curled up between their parents, the two adolescents sleeping soundly. Would they feel the wound? Would it harm them? Chodo felt another chill, this one stronger than the last. He looked to Moza, who stood there helplessly.

"What do I do, Chodo?" he asked hoarsely.

Chodo waved a hand at him. "Something is coming. Whatever it is… do not let it see."

Moza understood. Without another word, he rounded up the parents and the children, the eggs and the elders… and they were not seen again. Not until the wound had come… had done its bidding… and had left. And by then, the nursery was long gone indeed.

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**Author's Notes: **I think you guys have a right to hate me now. What's this? Stories about Ithorians – all-male Ithorians, no less? I don't feel like explaining myself much. I just wanted to write something and I had writer's block for everything else. This was just the next best thing. I guess I'm going to have to explain the whole egg-sack, all-male, caremother thing, as well as the nursery and the wound in the Force and hiding and the Ithorian gayness of it all.

Okay. Here we go.

I have never seen, and I never heard of, a female Ithorian. On Taris, an Ithorian mentioned his 'life-mate' but never mentioned its gender. After looking for quite some time, I still have not uncovered the slightest sign that there would be female versions of this race (there are other races like this as well – the Rakatans, for example, and the Gamorreans). I decided it was just as well that they were 'all-male', which made it easier on me. No screwy confusing she-he definitions. About the Chodo/Moza thing… it was just an idea to write, and it was easier, I guess. The term 'caremother' is just a parenting term. The caremothers are still male. And what better way to carry babies than in egg-sacks? I always thought Ithorians didn't look mammalian enough to give birth to live young, so, of course, the EGG was invented. Oh, I'm so clever.

The nursery burnt down. Use your imagination for that. But the wound in the Force, obviously, was the exile. A dark-side exile. Chodo can feel the darkness right away and doesn't want his clan exposed. Ever wonder where all the Ithorians had gone in the game? Ten aliens cannot make a world. I always figured that their settlement was a lot bigger than they let on. And when Chodo feels the almighty baddy approaching, he hides away everyone so that DSE doesn't kill them all.

Whew. The end. Sorry about its crappiness and its just plain awkwardness. It wasn't meant to have a really specific point. Just for fun.


End file.
